


Shipped

by earlgreytea68



Category: Sports Night
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-22
Updated: 2018-09-22
Packaged: 2019-07-15 16:14:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16066733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/earlgreytea68/pseuds/earlgreytea68
Summary: The internet thinks it's a relationship. Casey's got some catching up to do.





	Shipped

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, this isn't what I was supposed to be spending my day doing OH, WELL. 
> 
> I rewatched Sports Night last spring and then I found out that this week marks twenty years since the show debuted and rather than getting all caught up in how old that makes me feel, I wrote a Sports Night fic instead. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone on Twitter who cheered me on, and Aja whose idea I stole for the ending, and all the lovely Sports Night writers still writing lovely things, and the Sports Night transcripts on LJ which were lifesavers! https://sntranscripts.livejournal.com
> 
> I guess this is a...modern AU? Because this isn't the internet like it was 1998, oops. Time is a vague notion...

“Did you know people think we’re in a relationship?” Casey asked. 

“Did you know we have a show to write that’s going on the air in a couple of hours?” Dan countered, not looking up from his computer. 

“Danny, this is important.” Casey sat on the couch and leaned forward urgently. “People think _we_ …” Casey waved his hand between the two of them. 

Dan kept his fingers on his keyboard, because he wasn’t giving up the pretense of writing their show entirely, but did look at Casey, so he could raise his eyebrows at Casey’s explanatory hand gesture. “Sorry, Casey, I’m confused, explain to me the antecedent of your ‘we’ pronoun again.” 

“ _We_.” Casey gestured between them again. Dan kept his eyebrows raised. “You and me. _We_ \--Wait, you’re not confused about that antecedent, are you?” 

“No, Casey, literally there is only one possibility for the antecedent. Hurry up and finish your sentence so we can be done with this conversation.” 

“You think this conversation is only going to take one sentence?” 

“I’m a hopeful person.” 

“People think we…” Casey shifted his eyes toward the open office door, then leaned closer to Dan and dropped his voice into a conspiratorial whisper. “ _Have a relationship_.” 

Dan leaned closer to Casey in response and dropped his voice as well. “Is it a relationship where we’re plotting to overthrow the government? Because don’t get me wrong, I’m in favor of this relationship, but the whole _coup d’etat_ should wait until after the Rugby World Cup finals, because you know how I feel about rugby.” 

“Our relationship isn’t about the President,” said Casey. 

“That’s a relief. Then why are we whispering?” 

“Why would we have to whisper if our relationship was about the President?” 

“Because our office might be bugged.” 

Casey’s eyes widened in alarm and he looked around the office. 

“Our office isn’t bugged,” Dan said, and turned back to his computer. “Nothing we say in here is interesting enough for people to want to listen to us. The stuff was say on the air is barely interesting enough to people to want to listen to us.”

“This is interesting,” Casey insisted. 

“I can assure you that you do not know the meaning of that word,” said Dan, backspacing the entire last sentence he’d written. And then the sentence before that. 

“I’m talking about our relationship that people think we have.” 

“We don’t have a relationship with each other?” Dan said. 

“You know what I mean,” Casey said impatiently. 

“No, actually, I don’t,” said Dan, trying not to overuse college mascot references in the football roundup he was drafting. “Are you telling me we’re not friends? Because I’m taking back all the hours I have spent moving you in and out of apartments on the grounds of ‘friendship.’ I’m going to send you a bill for all that hard labor.”

“You always carry in one box of kitchen utensils and spend the rest of the day introducing yourself to my new neighbors so you can collect phone numbers.” 

“It’s hard work, but somebody’s got to do it, Case.” 

“I’m willing to grant you that we are friends,” said Casey. 

Dan snorted. “That’s generous of you, thank you, I appreciate your magnanimity.” 

Casey spoke over him, “But I am talking about _sex_.” And then Casey looked over at the open office door. “I just shouted that, didn’t I?”

“Yes.” Dan leaned back in his chair and turned to fully face Casey. “I didn’t know we were talking about sex. This finally got interesting. _This_ is the meaning of the word ‘interesting.’” 

“We don’t have sex,” Casey said. 

“No, we don’t. It’s the kind of thing I would have hoped you’d notice but I know you can get confused about that, so—”

“People think we do.” 

“What people?” 

“On the internet.” 

“Oh,” said Dan, and turned back to his script. “Yeah.”

There was an entire minute of blessed silence. Dan wrote an entire participial phrase. 

Then Casey said, sounding outraged, “ _Oh_? _Yeah_?” And then he stood up and closed the door. 

_Fuck_ , thought Dan, he was never getting this script done. 

“Okay,” said Dan. “Does this mean we have to have a conversation about this? I can’t just keep ignoring you hoping you’ll go away?” 

“ _Oh_?” Casey said again. “ _Yeah_?” 

“Casey, you’re paid a lot of money to be a writer, let’s do better with words so I have something to respond to.” 

“I gave you something to respond to! I told you that people on the internet think we’re having sex! And you said, ‘Oh. Yeah.’ _You’re_ the one with the bad words, Mr. Pot.” 

“Mr. Pot?” 

“Like, pot and kettle.” 

“Mr. Pot’s a bad nickname with a lot of other implications, let’s not use that nickname again.” 

“Can we talk about sex?” 

“Words that I never thought I would hear out of Casey McCall,” mused Dan. 

“People on the internet think we’re having sex,” said Casey. 

“I know.”

“You know?”

“Again, Casey, if all you’re going to do is just keep stealing the words I say and repeating them back to me—”

“Say something _substantive_ ,” said Casey. 

“Okay.” Dan considered. “Well. I think it’s hilarious that people on the internet think you could pull a guy like me. They have you hitting way above your weight, partner.” 

Casey blinked. “What?”

“It’s like I’m Mike Trout and you’re the minor league farm player with a .120 average.”

“Don’t bring baseball into this.” 

Dan shrugged. 

“That’s your reaction? That I’m not good enough for you?” 

Dan made a show of thinking really hard, then said, “Yes. That’s my reaction.” 

“Well, that’s an unsatisfactory reaction, Danny!” 

“Okay,” said Dan, and turned back to his computer. “How long do you think it’s going to take you to process all of this?” 

“A very long time.”

“I thought so. Go talk to Dana about it and let me write our script for us.” 

Casey opened the door and took a whole step out of the office before turning back. “I won the ‘Who’s cooler, Dan or Casey?’ poll.” 

“You cheated,” said Dan, not looking up from the adverbs he was adding to his paragraph. 

“I’m just saying. If anyone’s too good for anyone else, I’m the cooler one.” 

“Casey, if you go talk to Dana about this instead of me, I will write your half of the script for you tonight,” Dan bargained. 

“You’re the best,” said Casey, and went presumably in search of Dana. 

***

“People on the internet think I’m having sex with Dan,” Casey told Dana. 

“Yes,” said Dana. “They make you way hotter than you actually are.”

“Okay,” said Casey, and decided talking to Dana about this was not a good idea.

***

“Isaac,” said Casey, walking into his office. 

“I am not talking to you about whether or not you and Dan are having sex,” Isaac said immediately. 

“Isaac,” Casey whined. 

“Go away,” said Isaac. 

***

“Will you talk to me about how I’m not having sex with Dan?” Casey asked Natalie hopefully. 

“What?” exclaimed Natalie. “Yes! Do you know how long I have been waiting for this conversation? My time has come.” 

Casey blinked, confused. “What? You’ve been waiting for this?” 

“Dan is hot, you should definitely tap that ass,” said Natalie.

“That’s…not what I’m… Never mind,” said Casey. 

***

“Danny,” Casey said, walking back into their office. 

“Nope,” said Dan, not looking away from his computer. 

“Damn it,” said Casey, and left him alone. 

***

At the rundown, they sat and watched Casey pace distractedly through the otherwise-empty floor, apparently not noticing that they were all at the rundown. 

Jeremy said, “What’s Casey doing?” 

Dan said, “He’s freaking out because we’re having sex.”

Jeremy said, “You’re having sex now? Nobody tells me anything.”

“On the internet,” Dan said. 

“You have a _sex tape_?” said Jeremy. 

“Jeremy,” said Natalie, and shook her head. 

“Casey has a breakdown like this every time his world has to confront something other than missionary sex for reproductive purposes,” said Dan. “Weren’t you here during BDSM week?”

“He was away,” said Natalie.

“I missed BSDM week?” said Jeremy. 

“Casey read _50 Shades of Grey_ ,” Dana said. 

“Why would he do that?” asked Jeremy. 

“He was in a book club,” said Dan. 

“What kind of book club reads—”

“A bad book club,” said Dan. “He’s not in it anymore. I forbid it. It was a very long week in our office. A. Very. Long. Week.”

Everyone was silent for a moment in memory of their very long week. 

“So now he’s having sex with you on the internet?” said Jeremy. 

“He is. A lot of sex. It’s a lot for him to take in,” said Dan. 

“We’re talking about fictional sex, right?” said Jeremy. 

“So far,” said Dan. 

***

“How are we doing here?” Dan asked carefully as they sat behind the desk and were fussed over. 

“I’m fine,” Casey said, in his _I’m totally freaking out_ voice. 

“Yeah? Because we have a show to do, so let’s just, like, put the thought of having sex with me in a little closet in your brain and lock the door. ‘Closet’ was a bad choice of metaphor there. Should have thought that through better.” 

“I always have the sex-with-you thought in a closet,” Casey said. 

Dan blinked, surprised, and then didn’t know where he was supposed to go with that. It would be just like Casey to introduce another major layer to their relationship right before their live television show was about to start. “Oh,” said Dan. “Huh.” Which probably could have been handled better, especially considering he was a _professional fucking writer_. 

Casey said, “I mean. You know what I mean.” 

Dan stared at him. “I honestly am not entirely sure I do anymore.” He didn’t even mean that to be snarky. He just _meant_ that. 

Casey looked back at him.

Dana said in their earpieces, “You two have got thirty seconds to resolve this Gordian knot of emotions a decade in the making.” 

_Let’s take a knife to the fucking thing_ , Dan thought, and would have kissed Casey right then and there if he hadn’t thought that would have made for a disaster of a show. Stupid _Sports Night_. 

Casey said, “This has been a lot for me.” 

“I know,” said Dan, because he did. “You’re actually doing a really good job with it.”

“You wrote the entire script for us and I missed the rundown.” 

“It’s okay. You’re having an existential meltdown.”

“Am I?” 

“Yes. But that’s your default position, so don’t worry about it.” 

“Five,” said their earpieces. “Four. Three.”

Dan winked at him and looked at the camera. 

Casey said to the viewers at home, “Hello and welcome to Sports Night. I’m Casey McCall and I’m having an existential meltdown but luckily I’m here with Dan Rydell and he’s used to me having them by now.” 

Dan smiled at the camera and picked up the ad lib. “Yup, got it covered. There is no cure for an existential meltdown like baseball highlights right at the top, so here we go.” 

***

Casey was in a corner of Anthony’s by himself brooding, and that just wasn’t acceptable. 

“Hey,” Dan said, and slid into the booth next to him. “Put it back in your sex-with-me closet.” Dan tapped Casey’s forehead. 

“I don’t have a sex-with-you closet,” said Casey. 

“Good,” said Dan easily, and took a swig of his beer. “Because if you did, I’d be sad not to know about it.” 

Casey looked at him curiously. “Would you?” 

Dan sighed impatiently. “Casey. It’s just sex. It’s just…body parts and biological reactions. Who gives a fuck if you have a sex-with-me closet in your head?” 

“What would be in your sex-with-you closet in my head?” asked Casey, propping his elbow on the table and his chin on his fist, like he was settling in for a good story. 

“I don’t know,” said Dan, and tipped his head at Casey thoughtfully. “The things you like about me, I guess. The things you _really_ like about me. Like the stupid way you insist on cutting your hair that means it should always have hands in it mussing it up. And the terrible clothes you wear that you think are inviting but should really just be ripped off your body so they can never be worn again. And that little smile you give yourself when you write something you’re really happy with, and you make that little smile and there’s always this beat of you glowing at the computer and I wait and then you say, ‘Hey, Danny, listen to this,’ and then you beam at me, and that’s a good thing that you do, it’s a nice smile.” 

Casey was silent for a long moment. “Those are… Those are things about _me_.”

“Well, I can’t give you the thing you should have in your sex-with- _me_ closet. That would be flat-out narcissistic.” Dan sipped his beer again. “Although, my hands should be in there, I have nice hands.” 

“Did you just give me the contents of your sex-with-me closet?” asked Casey. 

Dan looked at him assessingly. He wasn’t sure what game they were playing, how close they were coming to stepping over the line, and he felt a little reckless tonight, not even because he’d had all that much to drink but because he’d spent the whole day dealing with Casey having a crisis over the possibility of sexual tension between them, and Dan had spent basically their entire friendship assuming that Casey would have noticed the sexual tension much sooner if it was real, and now he was kicking himself for assuming that Casey noticed _anything_ that didn’t literally reach out and bite him in that spot low on his throat that showed under his unbuttoned collar. 

Dan contemplated biting that spot. He thought of saying, _Sometimes I want to kiss the way you smile at me to see how it tastes. Sometimes I want to kiss the way you frown at me for the same reason. Sometimes I think that, when I’m the focus of all your perfectionist worry, when you’re focused on me and I can tell how much you love me, that I would open for you like a fucking flower, and you’d just have to ask_. 

Dan said instead, “It’s just sex. You’ve got it built up to epic proportions in your head. You’re going to be a joy when you give Charlie the birds and the bees speech.”

“I was going to make you do that.”

“You’re going to make me give your son the birds and the bees speech?” 

“Yeah, you’d be much better at that than I would be.” 

“You’re going to make me give Charlie the birds and the bees speech on your behalf—”

“Would you stop mentioning the concepts of ‘Charlie’ and ‘the birds and the bees’ in the same sentence?”

“—and you wonder why people think we’re in a relationship?”

Casey was silent for a long moment. “You have a point.” 

“Hey,” said Jeremy, collapsing down at their table, and then looked at them suspiciously. “You two aren’t talking about having sex with each other, are you?” 

“No,” said Dan, and took a long pull from his beer bottle. “What can we do for you, Jeremy?” 

“I could totally offer you advice about having sex with each other,” Jeremy said. 

“No,” said Dan. “You couldn’t.” 

“We were just going anyway,” said Casey. 

Dan looked at him in surprise. 

“Let me walk you home,” said Casey. 

***

These were things they did all the time: Leave Anthony’s together. Walk each other home. Banter to a doorstep. Say “good night.” Say “see you tomorrow.” 

Dan wasn’t sure if that was what they were still doing. Or should he invite Casey up? Or would that just make Casey freak out and then this existential sex crisis would have to bleed over into tomorrow? Dan kind of wanted the existential sex crisis to be over. It was exhausting. He wanted to go back to Casey having existential crises over whether the security guard had said an enthusiastic enough “good morning” to him and did that mean he thought Casey was stuck-up. 

Casey was thoughtful next to him. Quiet. No banter in sight. 

Dan cleared his throat. “I feel like this existential meltdown is—”

“Nope.” Casey shook his head. “No existential meltdown. I’m fine.”

“You only ever tell me you’re fine when you are demonstrably not fine.” 

“Thanks for that observation, Mr. Pot.” 

“No,” Dan said. “Really. We’re not doing that nickname.” 

Casey looked at him and grinned. His hair was limp from the late hour, and there were smudges under his eyes, and he looked so kissable that Dan ached. Casey said, “I’m fine. I’ll write the script tomorrow to make tonight up to you.” 

“It didn’t bother me to write the script. I’ll have an existential crisis over something at some point and you’ll have to write the script. That’s how it goes, isn’t it?” 

“Oh, so you have existential crises, too?” asked Casey mockingly. 

“Many fewer than you,” Dan replied primly. 

Casey smiled and squinted up at the door to Dan’s building. And then he looked at Dan. “We are really good at what we do.” 

“Yes,” Dan agreed. “We always have been.” He wondered if this was a prelude to _Let’s not fuck it up_.

“I mean,” said Casey, “as soon as I met you, I thought, We could be really good together.” 

“I know,” Dan said. “You tell that story a lot.” 

“That’s probably why people think we’re fucking, isn’t it?” said Casey, which was far blunter than Dan had expected him to be. 

Dan said, “Well, it doesn’t do much to dispel the idea, does it?” 

Casey looked at him for a long moment, and Dan held his breath, and they stood in front of Dan’s building together for a long moment. Dan wondered again if this was where he was supposed to tell Casey to come inside, which was not unusual, it was not unusual for them to have one more beer, it was not unusual to end up crashing on each other’s couches. 

Casey said, “I’m going to write you a great script tomorrow.” 

“Okay?” Dan offered, confused. 

“See you,” Casey said, and gave him a cheerful little wave and walked away. 

What the fuck, thought Dan. 

***

Dan had half-expected the script Casey wrote to be littered with weird forced exchanges between them but it was a straight-up, solid, typical script. Dana praised them for the jokes and Dan pretended he’d written any of them. 

It was an odd day because it was a thoroughly ordinary day, which Dan had thought he’d wanted. 

Casey waited until they were behind the desk again to say, “I did not know that we were in a relationship all this time. I mean, I’ve been thinking about…a lot of stuff. And I don’t think I knew how people were taking things.”

“I don’t know how you missed it,” Dan said honestly. “We sit up here every night and flirt with each other in front of millions of people. What did you think people were going to think?” 

“I didn’t think we were flirting,” Casey said. 

“Of course you didn’t,” said Dan. “You’re really bad at flirting.” 

“It’s true,” said Dana in their earpieces. “He is.” 

Casey frowned briefly toward the control room. “You’re not helping matters, Dana.”

“I wasn’t trying to,” Dana replied merrily. 

“It’s okay,” said Dan. “I’m a really long-suffering boyfriend. I play the part well.” 

“I’m not such a bad boyfriend,” Casey protested. 

“Wait,” said Kim, pausing in handing them fresh scripts. “I’m confused, are you two actually—”

“No,” said Dan. 

“But if we were,” Casey said, “for the record, I’m a really good boyfriend who’s really great at sex.” 

“Okay,” said Dan, “let’s do our show now.” 

***

“Can I ask you a question?” Casey asked, cornering Dan at the edge of the bar. 

“You don’t usually ask permission,” Dan noted. 

“Is this why our show is successful? Because people think we’re fucking?” 

Dan wrinkled his nose. “I wish you’d stop saying that.” 

“Saying what?” 

“That we’re fucking. Number one, people could overhear. And number two…” Dan didn’t have a number two. Not one he wanted to say out loud. 

Casey lifted his eyebrows. “You object to the term? _You_ do? What, you think it’s unseemly? I thought you’d make fun of me if I said we were making love.” 

“Yes,” said Dan fervently. “I would.” 

“Let’s get back to my question. Is our show successful because people think we’re fucking?” 

“Our show is successful because of us,” Dan said truthfully. “You know that.” 

“Yes,” Casey agreed, looking thoughtful. 

“We have chemistry. Not everyone does. You definitely know that.” 

“Yes,” Casey agreed, looking even more thoughtful. 

“People will tune in to watch us kill an hour bantering. They don’t care about the scores. They could Google the scores. They’re watching _us_ , Casey. And you know that.” 

“Right,” Casey said. “Yes. I do know that. I guess I just didn’t… I just didn’t realize people were interpreting my important business decisions as—”

Dan bristled. He couldn’t help it. He’d been lounging against the bar, partly because Casey had him boxed in, but now he straightened. “Your important business decisions,” he repeated flatly. 

“You know what I mean,” Casey said. 

“No, I don’t. I’d never call you a _business decision_.” 

“No. Of course not. That’s not what you are. You’re the opposite of a business decision. A business decision is definitely what you are not.” 

“Yo. Gertrude. Stop protesting,” said Dan, and sulkily sipped the scotch he was working on tonight. 

“I’m just saying—”

“You should stop talking,” Dan said. “You should really, really listen to me and stop talking right now.” 

Casey did. For about four seconds. “Danny, I didn’t mean—”

“None of it was a _business decision_ for me. I followed you—I kept working with you—because I fucking _liked_ you. Do you know how many chances, how many opportunities, I’ve had to do something else, something without you? A _lot_. I’m not your sidekick.” 

“I never said you were—”

“And I never turned any of those down because of a _business decision_ , I turned them down because I like you and I like working with you and I have _always_ thought that went both ways, even when you were being your most obnoxious, your most stuck-up, your most Casey-McCall-top-billing, I thought you liked working with me, too.” 

Casey looked bewildered. “Of course I like working with you.” 

“Then don’t call me a _business decision_. Don’t call _this_ —” Dan waved his hand between the two of them. “—a _business decision_. It’s not. And you shouldn’t tell yourself it is. All those people on the internet would laugh you out of broadcast media.” 

“Dan, I don’t think you’re—That was a poor choice of words—”

“I’m going,” said Dan, and ducked around Casey. 

“Danny,” Casey said. 

“Bye, Casey,” Dan said. “See you tomorrow.” 

***

Casey was watchful the next day, like he wasn’t sure what Dan was going to do. 

Dan was exhausted, because he’d slept poorly and he was out of sorts. He laid on their couch and closed his eyes and said, “I’m here. I’m going to write my half of the script. Please don’t bother me.” 

“Do I bother you a lot?” Casey asked evenly. 

“Christ,” Dan said, and pressed his fingers against the headache in his temples. “ _All the time_ ,” he snapped, because he wasn’t in the mood. 

“Danny.” Casey was closer now, in the chair next to the couch. “I never told you to give up opportunities to stay with me.” 

“Did I say you told me to?” Dan asked wearily. “I like it here. I like us. I like my job, I like this place, I…” He hesitated, then said, “I like you, most of the time. Don’t develop a whole new guilt complex over this.” 

“Should I be better at our relationship?” Casey asked. 

Dan opened his eyes to look at him and wondered if Casey had ever once asked that question about his relationship with Lisa. Dan said, “You’re fine at our relationship, Case. It’s served us well so far.” 

“I don’t want to be a _fine_ boyfriend,” said Casey. “I mean, if the internet thinks I’m your boyfriend, I want to be an _exceptional_ boyfriend to you.” 

“They think you’re great,” said Dan, closing his eyes again. “Didn’t you read any of it? They all think you’re a spectacular boyfriend.” 

“There’s a possibility they think I’m better than I am,” Casey remarked. 

Dan laughed. “Oh, they _definitely_ think that.” Then he took pity on him and said, “But it’s okay. They think I’m better than I am, too.” 

“I’ve never thought you were a business decision,” Casey said. “I think I was just surprised how much everyone else knew you weren’t one to me.” 

“They know you like me,” Dan said, and he couldn’t help that he smiled. “You’re a not-terrible boyfriend, it turns out.” 

***

They wrote their script together, and it felt easier than it had in days. Casey didn’t even seem to be examining every piece of banter for the underlying flirtatiousness that the internet would pick up on, and he let Dan have his way with a couple of slightly ungrammatical sentences for the sake of the joke. 

It was a good day at work. 

And then, coming back from a segment, Dana told them to fill, and Casey said, “You know, Dan, something I’ve been meaning to say.” 

Dan’s stomach plummeted to his toes in fear and dread but also his heart tried to float up to the ceiling with the kind of hope he really needed to get under control. He said, “Wow, Casey, okay, maybe we can go to commercial now,” and sent a hopeful flicker of a smile toward Chris the cameraman, who shook his head. 

Casey said, very seriously, “That tie really brings out your pretty, pretty eyes.” 

Dana, choking with laughter, said in their earpieces, “Okay, Dan, _now_ you can take us to commercial.” 

Dan looked at the camera and sent a couple of sideways glances to Casey as he said, “You’re watching Casey McCall be weird to me, Dan Rydell. This is Sports Night on CSC, stick around to see what Casey says to me next.” 

Casey was grinning, pleased with himself. 

Dan said, “You really don’t need to—”

“That was _fantastic_ ,” Dana crowed into their earpieces. 

“Social media is _lighting up_ ,” Natalie added. 

“The internet thinks we’re boyfriends,” Casey explained. 

“Well, this is going to be fucking phenomenal,” Dan muttered to himself under his breath. 

“No swearing on the air, Dan, so get it out in the next thirty seconds,” Dana told him cheerfully. 

***

Hannah standing by at Fenway actually threw it back to them with, “And their season has become just about as long and hard as you can make it.” 

Dan was supposed to bring them back, and all he could think of was, “That’s what she said.” 

Casey said deadpan beside him, “For a show where we talk about balls a lot, you’d think we’d have more innuendo.” 

And Dan said, because the show tonight just had that kind of feel, “I think I have given you all the innuendo you can handle, sweetheart.” 

Casey actually laughed, so Dan took them into the break. “We’re Dan and Casey, stick around to see what Casey can handle here on _Sports Night_.” 

“You are going to get us taken off the air,” Dana said into their earpieces. “It’s fabulous, keep doing it.” 

“You know,” Dan said to Casey, “we were at a decent level of flirting before. We don’t need to turn it up to eleven.” 

“Give the people what they want, Danny,” Casey said wisely. 

***

Dan said, “Tom Brady says there’s nothing like some good alkalizing foods to give you the energy you need to be the greatest quarterback of all time. Which, incidentally, is also the key to a successful date with me, Casey.” 

“Alkalizing foods?” Casey said. 

“Alkalinity,” said Dan. “Gives you the energy you need.” 

“Taking notes,” said Casey. 

***

Casey said, “The university has denied giving any of the high school recruits the extravagant gifts listed by the NCAA but says that even if it did, there’s no evidence that the gifts influenced the recruits’ admission decisions. Dan, could you heart be bought with a brand new BMW?” 

“Casey, my heart is pure and unswayed by material items.” 

“Thought so.” 

“Make it a Lamborghini, though, and now we’re talking.” 

***

“The. Show. Was. _Incredible_ ,” Dana said, hanging between the two of them. She was very drunk. 

Casey said, “We know. You’ve said.” 

“We were _trending. We_. Were _trending_.” Dana gave Dan a kiss and then Casey a kiss and said, “We can do a threesome any time you want.” 

“Nope,” said Dan. 

“Just putting it out there. Going to talk to Natalie now.” 

“Good,” said Casey, and looked at Dan. “We are not doing a threesome with Dana.” 

“We are not,” said Dan. 

“Come on,” said Casey. “I’ll walk you home.” 

***

“Am I supposed to be buying your flowers?” Casey asked as they walked. 

Dan laughed. He felt warm and loose, buzzing from an evening of flirting with Casey when Casey knew they were flirting. It was dangerous, and alluring, and irresistible. “Yes,” he said. “But you never do. It’s okay, you always forgot your anniversary with Lisa, too.”

“I suppose you think you’re a really good boyfriend,” said Casey. 

“I am. I sang _Happy Birthday_ to you on air that time. The most expensive birthday gift you ever got. And then I joined a lawsuit to get the copyright to _Happy Birthday_ thrown out, which was a really, _really_ generous gift.”

“I didn’t want _Happy Birthday_ ’s copyright for a birthday gift.” 

“And you never buy me flowers,” said Dan. “We’re stuck with each other.” They were at Dan’s building, and Dan said without thinking, because it seemed so natural, “Do you want to come up? It’s early still. Let’s make fun of _West Coast Update_.” 

***

Dan woke to a Casey on his couch, which happened three out of seven mornings a week, on average. Sometimes Casey would go through a stretch of consecutive nights when he wouldn’t want to go home. They never talked about it but Dan thought those were missing-Charlie nights. Or just missing having _someone_ nights. And Dan was happy to be Casey’s someone, because, well, he _was_. He’d always thought that was obvious. 

Dan showered and dressed and made a racket in his kitchen making breakfast, until Casey stumbled in. 

“Hi there, Aurora,” Dan said. “Ready to go write our show?” 

“Who?” Casey asked, his face adorably scrunched up with sleepy confusion. 

“Sleeping Beauty,” Dan said, and closed Casey’s hand around a coffee mug. “That’s her name: Aurora.”

“How do you know that?” asked Casey, still sleepy and perplexed.

“You think I’ve never seen a Disney movie?” said Dan. “That’s really gendered of you, Casey.” Dan, grinning, leaned up to bridge the couple of inches Casey had on him and kissed the corner of Casey’s mouth without thinking. 

Casey was warm and befuddled with sleep, and Dan, freezing in surprise at himself, thought it would be easy to brush off and let the whole thing go with no further comment, except that Casey exhaled a thoughtful, inquisitive sound, and then turned his head to press their lips together more fully. And then what happened was Dan inhaled, half in shock and half to get breath to ask what was happening, but when he inhaled he opened his mouth, and suddenly it was A Kiss. And suddenly it was A KISS, and Casey’s hand was cupping the back of his head to keep him in place, and Casey was twisting to shove him back against the kitchen cupboards, and Dan’s hands were scrambling with Casey’s wrinkled shirt from the night before, getting it out of his way, getting to Casey’s pants, and Casey kept kissing, and Dan kept kissing back, surprised, startled, willfully not thinking. 

Casey broke the kiss when Dan got a hand around him, jerking backward out of it in surprise, and for a second Dan thought this was going to be the moment when Casey came back to earth and pushed away, but Casey pushed up and into Dan’s fist, so Dan was happy to be getting everything wrong at the moment because things were going so right. 

And he couldn’t resist saying, because it was _Casey_ and he could never resist teasing Casey, not even now, not even with Casey _looking_ like that, “You’re a much better kisser than I expected you to be.” 

“Shut up,” Casey growled at him, and shut him up with mouth and tongue and teeth, and Dan grinned into the bite of the kiss and got himself out of his pants because Casey didn’t seem with it enough to know he ought to be doing that, which was fine with Dan, he could handle getting both of them off as long as Casey kept kissing him like that, no, really, honestly, he was a _much_ better kisser than Dan had expected him to be. 

Casey shifted his kisses across Dan’s cheek, smooth because Dan had shaved that morning but Casey scratched his stubble in a trail across Dan’s skin and kissed Dan’s ear and said into it, sounding wrecked, gasping for breath, “Danny. What are we doing?”

Dan stilled. “Do you want to me to stop?”

“ _No_ ,” said Casey, “don’t you dare.” 

Dan grinned and turned his head to catch Casey’s mouth again, and when Casey came he said Dan’s name, and that was an incredible turn of events. 

Dan was pressed up against the counter, which was uncomfortable now that he was aware of it, and Casey was heavy and hot, sweaty against him, and…wet, in places he shouldn’t have been wet, and Dan realized that some of it was the coffee Casey had been holding when this whole thing has suddenly started, and the rest of it was the milk that had been on the counter and that one of them had managed to overturn somewhere. 

Casey said against his neck, “We’re in your kitchen, oh, my God, that is the most _unsanitary_ thing, we can’t ever eat food in here again.”

Dan laughed until he cried. 

***

Dan waited for Casey to be done shaving, because he didn’t want Casey to cut his neck, and then he said, “Hey. Are you going to be weird about this?” 

“I am absolutely not going to be weird about this,” said Casey, which meant he was definitely going to be weird about this. 

“Because the internet thinks we’ve been doing this for ten years,” said Dan. 

Casey walked over to him, crowding into his space, and it wasn’t unusual for them to stand so close to each other, they did it all the time, but the expression on Casey’s face was almost absently predatory, like he hadn’t intended to come over there to kiss Dan but now he’d changed his mind and was going to. 

“You should kiss me,” Dan said, because the discovery of how spectacular Casey was at kissing was one Dan was going to really revel in. 

Casey kissed him up against his door and they were _so_ late to work. 

***

Casey was sitting at his desk staring at Dan. This also was not unusual, although usually he didn’t do this because they’d had sex that morning. Twice. Nothing about the situation was conducive to Dan getting his writing done. 

Casey said, “I’m going to be weird about this.” 

“Yes.”

“I’ve changed my mind, and I’m going to be weird about this.”

“I know.” 

“How are you not weird about it?” 

“Because it’s biology,” Dan said. “It’s just biology.” 

“Is it?” said Casey. 

Dan looked across at him, and thought, _No, that’s not biology, that’s ten fucking years of longing suddenly bubbling up in my kitchen and I have no idea what the fuck we’re supposed to do with that but we have a show to write_. Dan said, “Casey. Did you have a good time this morning?” 

“Yes,” Casey said. 

“Good.” Dan turned back to his script. “So did I. Let’s not make it into a Thing.” 

“A thing?” 

“Capitalize the t,” Dan said. “A Thing.” 

“Does it get to at least be a lowercase thing?” asked Casey. 

Dan closed his eyes. “Can we write our show?” he begged him. “Can we just write our show and talk about sex later?” 

“Do you want me to put it back in my sex-with-you closet in my head?” asked Casey. 

“Yes,” Dan said, opening his eyes again. “That’s such an excellent idea.”

“That closet’s kind of crowded at the moment,” Casey said. 

Dan couldn’t help it. He laughed. 

***

Halfway through the show, flowers were delivered to their desk. 

Dan stared at them, a huge bouquet of cheerful daisies. He said, “Wow,” and looked at Casey. 

“Goodness, Danny,” said Casey theatrically. “Do you have a secret admirer?” 

“I don’t know,” said Dan, playing along. “Who could these possibly be from?” 

Casey said, “Oh, look, there’s a card,” and handed it to him. 

Dan opened it and read it and smiled and then said thoughtfully, “I don’t know. It’s unsigned. This could be a mystery.” 

“What does it say?” asked Casey. “Maybe I can help you solve it.” 

“To my favorite business decision,” said Dan. “That’s what it says.” 

“How romantic,” said Casey. 

Dan knew he was grinning like an idiot. He said, “Our show is such a mess, we should have been in break two minutes ago.” 

“I’m Casey, he’s Dan, this is _Sports Night_ and we’ll just cut two minutes of NASCAR highlights, nobody’ll notice.”

Dan laughed and said, “Melanie Marsh is catching up with Serena Williams after the break, so if for some reason you haven’t changed the channel yet, please stick around.” 

“That was…” said Dana into their earpieces. 

“Sorry,” said Dan, still smiling stupidly at the flowers. “Sorry.” 

“Look, he can’t help it if he’s irresistible,” Casey said. 

“I can’t,” Dan agreed. “The internet loves me.”

“I can’t even be angry,” Dana sighed, “because our ratings have never been higher.” 

“We’re good at this,” Casey told Dan happily. 

***

Dan took the daisies to Anthony’s. 

Jack said, “Very impressive.” 

Dan said, “Thank you.” And then he said to Casey, “Don’t even preen.” 

“Why, whatever do you mean,” said Casey sleekly, grinning at Jack as he called for two beers and put his credit card on the bar. 

Dan shook his head. 

Dana came up between them and said, “You two,” and looked between them. 

Dan looked at her, then looked at Casey, then back at her. “Yes?” he prompted. 

“Never mind,” said Dana, and wandered away. 

“Hey, Casey,” Dan said suddenly. 

Casey looked at him. 

“Do you want to come back to my apartment for a couple of orgasms?”

Casey called to Jack at the other end of the bar, “Never mind about the beers.” 

***

Dan watched Casey, in his bed, and tried to remember Casey buying flowers for Lisa. Just-because flowers. Maybe Casey bought flowers after every first orgasm, but that wasn’t Dan’s experience of Casey, and Dan knew everything about Casey, including an alarming amount about what had made Casey’s marriage fail. 

“Hey,” Dan whispered, wondering if Casey was asleep. 

“Hmm,” Casey said. 

“You don’t have to send me flowers.”

“I wanted to be a good boyfriend,” Casey said. 

“You are,” said Dan honestly. “You have been. I complain because I’m an asshole, it’s what I do. You’re a good boyfriend.” 

Casey opened his eyes and looked at him. “You’re not an asshole. I’ve never thought that.” 

“You’ve thought it a little, at certain points in our relationship.” 

“Yeah, but.” Casey waved his hand around and closed his eyes again. “I only ever thought that secondary to my primary thought.” 

“What was your primary thought?”

“That you’re you. You’re you and I wouldn’t want to do this with anyone else so I’m glad you’ve never made me.” 

Dan paused, then said, “Casey, what’s the antecedent to your ‘this’ in that sentence? Sex, or _Sports Night_ , or…?”

“Danny,” Casey said, and put an arm over him to pull him in snugly. “Go to sleep.” 

“Oh, okay, so you cuddle,” Dan remarked.

“No, I’m shutting you up,” Casey said. “That’s different.”

“This is definitely cuddling,” Dan said. 

“Shut up,” Casey said. 

“We’re still us,” Dan said. “This isn’t a Thing. We’re still us.” 

“Yeah,” Casey agreed, and fell asleep. 

***

Dana came into their office, where they were actually, for once, managing to get work done in relative silence, and said, “I just want to say: Good job.”

“Good job?” echoed Dan. 

“With this whole fake relationship thing you’re really playing up,” said Dana. “It’s great. You’re doing so great.” 

“Thanks,” Casey said absently, looking at his computer.

Dan looked at him. 

Dana said, “Okay. Don’t mess with greatness. Keep it going, boys.” And then she left. 

Dan pushed away from his desk and demanded, “Are we having a fake relationship?”

Casey looked up at him, a little hazy, clearly still thinking about his script. “What?”

“Because you sent me _real_ flowers. And we do _real_ flirting. And we’re having _real_ sex.” 

Casey stared at him. “What are we even talking about right now?” 

“What are we doing?” Dan asked. 

“Writing a script,” said Casey. “We have a show together. It’s called _Sports Night_.”

“Not that. Shut up. In fact: fuck you.” 

Casey blinked, obviously shocked. “What?” 

“Is this fake? Are you being performative with all of this?” 

“Who the fuck would be I performing to in your _bed_?” Casey retorted. 

“I don’t know. I’m confused. I can’t tell anymore when you’re pretending and when you’re not.” 

“When I’m _pretending_?” said Casey. 

“Are you pretending?” asked Dan. 

“At what point,” Casey replied evenly, “have I _ever_ been pretending?” 

Dan didn’t know the answer to that. Dan felt like he had the same relationship he had for the past ten years, only now there was sex, and he didn’t know if that meant he had to reexamine the relationship he’d had for the past ten years or if he had to reexamine the relationship he had _now_. 

“Danny, what _are_ we doing?” Casey asked into his silence. “I thought you didn’t want it to be a Thing.” 

“I don’t,” Dan answered automatically. 

“Okay then. We’re us. Isn’t that what you said last night? Or this morning? Or whenever that was? We’re still us.”

“Are we?” said Dan. “Who _are_ we?” 

“You’re having an existential meltdown,” Casey said calmly. “Maybe you should go talk to Dana or Isaac or—”

“I’m not _joking_ ,” said Dan. “This isn’t a _joke_ , this is—” Dan cut himself off, because Casey was staring at him, and the door had been open this entire time, and Dan wasn’t even sure how loud they were being, Dan just knew that what he couldn’t say was _This can’t be a joke because I’m so in love with you that I can’t handle you doing anything but meaning this from the bottom of your heart, you’re going to_ crush _me with this flippancy, why did I ever make the tone of our relationship flippancy?_

“Danny,” Casey said, tipping his head at him in confusion. 

“I’m too flippant,” Dan said faintly. 

“What?” said Casey. 

“Nothing. Never mind. I…I know what I want,” said Dan. 

“Okay,” Casey agreed slowly. 

“Do you know what _you_ want?” said Dan. 

Casey stared at him. 

Dan said, “I need some air.” 

***

They did a show that was stiff and formal and Dana whined in their ears about it and Dan couldn’t bring himself to care, because if this was Casey’s answer to Dan’s question about what Casey wanted, well, that was just great. 

Dan went to their office and stood by the window and looked out at New York. 

Casey said from their doorway, “Hey. I think I should apologize.” 

Dan shook his head. “No.” 

“Yes. I know what I want.”

Dan turned his head to look at him. The floor was dark behind him, and only the lamp on Casey’s desk was on. Most of the illumination was coming from outside, from the city flashing below them. “Do you? Because I know that’s not an easy thing for you. That’s never been an easy thing for you.”

“I know,” said Casey, “but I do know I’ve always wanted you. Is it okay for me to not know more than that? Because I want you and—”

“But I already knew that. Casey. We all already knew that.” Dan took a deep breath and let it out and turned to face Casey fully. “Here are my cards on the table. Are you ready?”

Casey looked like he was bracing himself against the door. “Yes.”

“You want me. I know. Every decision you’ve ever made was to want _me_. That’s why I’m here. That’s why I’ve stayed. Because I’m in love with you.” 

Casey blinked at him. “What?” 

“I’m in love with you. I’ve _been_ in love with you.”

“What? For how long?”

“I don’t know, Case,” Dan said helplessly. “The first day? I don’t know, I have no idea. You know how you tell that story about how you knew right away how good we’d be together? Yeah. I’m right there with you. I did, too. Except you were thinking about business decisions, and I was thinking that I wanted to make you laugh for the rest of our lives. And I have, right? I’ve never been making business decisions. I’ve been making you laugh, this whole time. Laugh, and smile at me, and be nearby when you’re having an existential meltdown and you need someone. That’s been me, Casey. It’s been me the whole time. It isn’t a fake relationship and I’ve never been pretending. I just _love_ you. You’re it for me, it was game over when I met you. You’re what I want. You’re why I’m standing here. Because I’m in love with you.” 

Casey stared at him for a long moment. And then he said, “Wait. Danny. What?” 

Dan waked over to him and said softly, “See, this is what I mean. This is why I was upset earlier. I can’t understand how you’re surprised. I can’t understand how I wasn’t _obvious_. You’re the love of my life.”

“Jesus,” said Casey, looking stricken, “but I didn’t know. I could have been a _much better_ love of your life.” 

Dan shook his head. “No, no. You’ve been good. You’ve been fucking spectacular. Because I… In all the years I have known you, I have watched you be unfailingly, staggeringly loyal to two human beings. One of them is Charlie.” 

“He’s my kid, that doesn’t count.” 

“Not all dads are unfailingly, staggeringly loyal to their sons, so let yourself have that one, Case,” said Dan knowingly. “And the other one has been me.” 

“Yeah, but…I’m a loyal person. I’m loyal to Isaac, I’m loyal to Dana—”

“You broke up your marriage over me. Not over Dana. Do you know how much better Lisa would have coped if you’d broken up your marriage over Dana? You broke it up over me. Lisa complained about you not being good enough to her, and the reason you weren’t being good enough to her was because you were too busy being good enough to _me_. You were always, at every turn, making sure that you had easy access to _me_. And, because you’re you, you never even thought about it. Which is part of what I love about you. But what I’m saying is: You’ve been great. You have loved me as steadily and fully as anyone I’ve ever met. I’ve actually never been loved as unconditionally as you’ve loved me this whole time. I don’t have any complaints. I have zero complaints. What I’m trying to tell you is…” Dan cupped his hands around Casey’s face and said, “Casey, pay attention to me: I’m the love of your life.” 

Casey looked at him for a long time, and then he said in a low voice, “Oh, my God.” 

Dan smiled at him. “There it is. Knew you’d get there in the end.” 

“You _idiot_ ,” Casey said him, and gave him a little shove. “Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

“I don’t know,” Dan said. “Well, I mean, partly I didn’t think you’d be any good in bed, so—”

“You’re the worst person in the entire universe,” Casey told him, and tackled him onto the couch. 

“Yeah,” said Dan. “It’s a lot of why you love me. You don’t have good taste.” 

“Hey,” Casey said. “I have exceptional taste.” 

“Oh, Case, I’d be so willing to believe that, if only I had never been clothes-shopping with you.” 

“I got you right,” Casey said, sounding shocked. “I mean, my entire life I’ve been kicking myself for fucking up so many relationships. But I got you right, and you were the one that mattered.” 

Dan smiled at him. “You got me right.” 

“How did I do that?”

“Sheer dumb luck. And, like I said, I happen to love you back, so it helps, because I just roll my eyes when you’re being emotionally obtuse. Which is always.” 

“I’m in love with you,” Casey said, and now he sounded amazed. 

“I think so, yes,” said Dan. “I’m pretty sure. Like, ninety-seven percent sure.” 

“I thought it was going to feel like something totally different,” Casey said. “You snuck up on me.” 

“I would say that I’m stealthy like that,” said Dan. “Except that I’ve literally been sitting right next to you the entire time. It wasn’t very stealthy. Everyone on the internet knew.” 

***

“I should really be a better boyfriend,” Casey mused, instead of writing his script. 

“No, you shouldn’t,” said Dan firmly. “I’m fine. I am very happy. Do not try to be a better boyfriend.” 

“But you deserve a better boyfriend,” Casey said. He paused, and then he said, “Danny, I have fantastic taste, and I don’t want you to ever think that I don’t.”

Which was a weird way of phrasing the sweetest thing Dan had ever heard him say. 

***

The brass band barging its way into the studio startled Dan into swearing on air. “What the fuck is that?” he said, and he knew that made everyone go scrambling into overdrive, and it was very unprofessional of him, but still, there was a _brass band_ marching through the studio. Playing _Happy Birthday_. 

Dan turned to Casey, amazed. “Did you hire a brass band to play me _Happy Birthday_?” 

“Well,” said Casey. “I couldn’t join a class action lawsuit to give you _Happy Birthday_ ’s copyright, so I had to really get creative.” 

“It’s not my birthday,” said Dan. 

“Shh,” said Casey, “you’re ruining the moment.” 

Dan said, “Hey, are we still on the air?” 

“Yeah,” Dana said frantically into their earpieces, “you need to throw it over to Lakyn in Cincinnati.”

“One second,” Dan said. “You see, I’ve got this really great boyfriend,” and he leaned over and kissed Casey.


End file.
